Ahem. I digress.
It is a well known fact that a serious authoress finds a keyboard and computer much better company to her thoughts than a pen, despite the dreadful prosy nature of technology. So this authoress, finding that every time she wished to work on her story, someone of her family happened to be checking emails or doing bills or doing bills or doing bills, this authoress, Rachel the Ever Hopeful, decided to become a paleontologist. For those of you who are a bit rusty on your sixth-grade learning, a paleontologist is One Who Digs Up Dinosaurs.
Yes, Rachel the Hopeful decided to become a paleontologist and hunt up one of the ancient brontosaurus-like computers--relics of an age when Windows 94 was cutting edge. :P She wondered how hard it could be. The computers must work, and her needs were simple: a keyboard, Microsoft Word of some nature, and a hard-drive to save her writing on.
So Rachel the Ever Hopeful traipsed up two flights of stairs to her attic, tripped over some coat-hangers, waded across piles of junk, and found the bones of what Had Been a working computer.
"Aha!" she thought, Hopeful to the end. She gathered the skeletal beast into her arms and turned around to see her older brother, Daniel the Realist gaping at her.
"What?" she asked. "Dad said I ought to find one of these to use for my writing."
Daniel the Realist, owner of a Toshiba laptop (Which Rachel loved to gaze at) and an iPhone (which she was still a little scared of), continued to gape. "But those things are...are..."
"Dinosaurs?" Rachel the Ever Hopeful chirped. "Yes, they are, but I'm sure I can piece something together."
The look of disgust on the Realist's face was comical. He was obviously not a lover of history and dinosaurs. He hadn't the spirit of a paleontologist about him, and suddenly Rachel the Ever Hopeful realized how very little she knew about this sort of dinosaur, and how little this sort of dinosaur seemed to wish to be resurrected. She had not a penny to her name. She knew her father and mother had not much more than a penny to their name. Certainly the dinosaur would see the predicament and respond in kindness? But Rachel the Ever Hopeful could not be daunted. The lure of a place for her own writing egged her on. She hauled the very heavy dinosaur down the stairs..all three pieces of it, and set it down on the ground.
Rachel the Ever Hopeful tried to understand all of the cords going on, but found it impossible without the help of her cousin, Matthew the Realistic Patronizer. He reminded her she had no mouse or keyboard.
Rachel the Ever Hopeful crept into Daniel the Realist's bedroom and unplugged the mouse and keyboard from his desktop. She held her breath and plugged them into the back of the dinosaur. In the darkness of the Reading Nook, Rachel the Ever Hopeful's face fell. The dinosaur wheezed and groaned and squeaked like nothing she had ever heard. It was not a Promising Sound. The computer booted up, hauling itself to it's feet. When the screen finally appeared, it was covered in scratchy rainbows, and sent Rachel the Ever Hopeful a message that a Dell keyboard and mouse don't correspond with an ancient, prehistoric Gateway dinosaur.
And so it was the Rachel's hope died, and she gave in to the idea that she would have to scribble in between bills and emails, unless a Computer Manufacturer looked upon her with a sparkling eye. :)
So there you have it, dear computer companies. I don't suppose any of you would care to adopt an aspiring authoress as a Christmas good-will, anti-BAH-HUMBUG project? If you do, you may email your inquiries to email@example.com. Thank you so much for your kind consideration of my plight. ;)
I am Yours Respectfully,